Spooked
by ally.enchantress
Summary: A Spooked pre-ep. For an SVU detective, Olivia Benson did not much like drama. It always seemed to get in the way of her happiness. Too bad her life was full of it. An ex-lover, a jealous partner, and way too many guns. What else could you need?
1. Chapter 1

**Oh, my goodness, did everyone SEE the teaser for Spooked? WOW!!! For all of perhaps 45 minutes, I was staring at the screen with my eyes popping out of their sockets and my mouth hanging open. I think I lost my lower jaw because of that. Hey, if anyone sees something slightly dusty that looks like it might be part of the human facial structure, please send it back to me!**

**Now, I know I am being a bad girl by writing this. I am in the middle of two stories. Well, one, technically. I think I am putting Supremacy on hold indefinitely while I get my life back under control. In truth, I've had a few bad weeks. Violent mood swings, panic attacks, dizziness, headaches, slight nausea… Not to mention stupid Mother Nature's apparent desire to visit me WAY too often… TMI? Sorry. But anyway, the point I was trying to get to is that I am a little scared. I don't know what's happening with me, and, since I enjoy having a pretty good sense of control over my life, that's not a fun thing to admit. I'm going to an OBGYN on the eleventh of November, and hopefully he/she can shed some light on the subject.**

**Anyway, this is a pre-Spooked thing I came up with after my fingers stopped shaking from watching that blasted teaser. I have no idea how accurate it is. Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Because Dick Wolf does not seem to be on my new, Solitary form of communication, I really have no way of asking him for SVU. So, until DW starts following me on Twitter, SVU is his. Come to think of it, that's probably why he doesn't yet have one. He knows he'd be bombarded with requests for the rights to SVU. Hmm…**

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**Benson Residence – 8:00 p.m.**

Olivia looked at herself in the mirror, just one more time. Her heart pounded against her ribs. When Dean had shown up for this case, she hadn't even considered how strong her reaction would be to seeing him again. Tall, dark, and handsome, he and his Italian good looks had made her heart throb the first time she'd laid eyes on him. He had told her outright, that he was attracted to her, and she replied that the feeling was mutual.

The suggestion of a date, however, had been long in the coming, as they were working together on the case in Oregon at the time. When Olivia returned to Manhattan, she and Dean had tried to make a relationship work. He thought she was the most amazing woman he had ever met, and she quite enjoyed his company. They were attracted to each other, and both had hoped for a romantic involvement between them to be successful.

All had been going well until, two months into dating, Dean had been called away to an issue of linked prostitution rings down in the southern states. South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, even trailing into parts of Mississippi. He'd promised to keep their relationship long distance, at least, but the prostitution turned swiftly into an issue of human trafficking and organ harvesting. Dean was swept into an undercover operation so dangerous that any contact with the outside world would have been devastating to all involved. The lines of communication between them had been shut down ever since.

When he showed up, completely unharmed, in the squad room, ready and waiting to help, Olivia felt love shoot through her heart. She hadn't realized just how much she missed him.

This time, she had been the one to start the game. She asked him what Florida had done to him to make him even more handsome than she'd left him. He'd replied that he couldn't look half as wonderful as she did. A date had been established, a reunion of sorts. They would take the time to catch up, as a couple, and see where the evening took them.

One thing Olivia had been adamant on, though, was that it remained hidden from their coworkers. Especially Elliot. She, like everyone else, had caught onto the hint of jealousy in his tone when she and Dean had been speaking earlier. While it sent her heart aflutter all over again, she was also a little put out by it. Somehow, Elliot managed to ruin most every romantic endeavor she attempted, and she was not about to let him get in the way of this one, too. No matter how she felt about him.

So, they kept it small. Dean had promised they wouldn't go anywhere. Ordering in, sitting on Olivia's sofa, just chatting. When she asked what the dress was, he smiled that adorable, sexy smile that set off fireworks in her heart and said formal. Very formal. She had absolutely no idea why a night in would require formal dress, but she was willing to play along.

Staring in the mirror, Olivia felt her excitement set her fingers and toes tingling. Red had always looked good against her skin. She considered it to be an elegant color, sometimes innocent, sometimes sexy, all depending on the situation. Tonight, she wore clingy scarlet that wrapped around her slim frame and hugged her body in all the right places, . Tonight, her stormy gray heels boosted her up to almost his height. Tonight, she had diamonds glistening from her neck, her ears, and her wrists. Tonight, that elegant red was, undoubtedly, sexy.

The buzzer sounded, signaling his arrival. She did her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she let him in. Only when she was staring into his beautiful brown eyes did she allow a flirtatious smile to grace her lips.

"Hello, there," Dean said, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

She let him linger, watching with amusement as his face told her he liked what he saw. In her opinion, he didn't look too bad himself. Dean always looked good in black. Tall…strong…handsome…very nondescript in nature, sort of like he was doing his best to remain in the background, even if he was unsuccessful. Just like Elliot. Blinking rapidly, she pulled her thoughts away from the forbidden territory. This was a night for her and Dean. They had a good chance of making things work this time, and Elliot would not mess this up. He had made his decision by going back to Kathy and, for the last two years, Olivia had been halfheartedly dating and dumping in the same night, secretly pining for the man who was unavailable. It was time to move on. Elliot clearly loved Kathy, and Olivia needed to find someone for herself. It was past time for her to settle into something steady.

"Hello, yourself," she replied, flicking her eyes up and down once. "Might I ask what you're doing here?"

He smirked teasingly. "I'm looking for someone."

"Really?" She opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Maybe I can help. What does she look like?"

Dean pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face in her hair. She slipped her hands up over his shoulders and pressed herself closer, inhaling deeply. The sweet scent of his cologne registered in her brain, and she sighed. She had missed this. She had missed him.

Deciding to continue their game, he whispered in her ear, "She's tall, dark-hair, absolutely beautiful brown eyes… Undoubtedly the most gorgeous woman you could ever meet." One hand moved to her neck, massaging it softly. The other hand caressed her back.

"Mmm…can't say I've seen her," she told him, closing her eyes as he continued to work out the knots in her neck. "But, I can keep you company until she gets here."

"And in the event of her not turning up?"

Olivia leaned her head back to cock an eyebrow at him. "Well, then I suppose we'll have to find something to entertain ourselves, won't we?"

"I would love the pleasure of your company, ma'am," he said.

Olivia pulled back, reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. She threaded her fingers into his and led him over to the couch. "So, what were you planning?" she asked.

"I already ordered the food," he told her. "We'll just have to…'find something to do' until it gets here. How's that?"

"What kind of food?"

"Chinese."

"Hmm…"

Smirking, he leaned in closer. "There a problem?"

She shook her head. "No, no, not at all. Just that you ordered the food without asking for my preference."

"Oh, I think you'll like it."

Olivia did not particularly like being spoken for. This had become apparent when Rachel Martin came into existence, her undercover alias in a speed dating service. The guy they thought to be their perp was very into control, so much so that he took hers away, ordering for her...countering her drink preference with one of his own… No, neither Olivia nor Rachel did very well with these types of situations. However, she did like Dean, and she did trust him enough to have faith that he got the right food, so she smiled. "Sounds good to me. So how shall we…entertain ourselves while we wait?"

He leaned in for a kiss, waiting just before her lips, as he sometimes did, for her permission. Heart pounding, she gave it. Their lips met in hesitance. They were testing the waters, trying to decipher, after two years, the status of their relationship. This quickly gave way to relief and urgency, as they found what they were looking for in each other. He was perfectly willing to pick up right where they left off, she had no objection. Her arms encircled his neck, and he rested a hand behind her head, holding her there. As if she was planning on going anywhere. His tongue traced her upper lip, requesting entrance, and she readily deepened the kiss.

A knock on the door announced their food, and she reluctantly broke away, replenishing her lungs with much-needed oxygen as she went to the door. When she turned around, dinner in hand, Dean was staring at her. A small smile curved his lips slightly upward, and Olivia had the sudden urge to kiss it away. She would have, too, but the hot temptation of her first meal of the day…well, night…restrained her.

Peeking in the bag, she was pleasantly surprised to find all her favorites. She looked at him with wide eyes. "You remembered? After two years?"

He shrugged. "What can I say?" he asked. "I just know these things." He took the other bag from her and pulled out his own food.

As they ate, they talked.

Olivia asked Dean about the case in the south. How had he gotten involved in the undercover operation? What had been the danger preventing him from calling? When were the trial dates? He answered as best he could, explaining as much of it as possible without releasing anything classified. She understood the need for secrecy and listened without question while he told her the story. In return, she answered his questions about some of their past cases. He had heard about Lauren Cooper, the FBI agent who shot herself, and Olivia elaborated on the outline he'd gathered from outside sources, filling in the details, even telling him that she had broken down when she put the gun to her head.

A tear escaped her eye at the end of the tale, and it slid down her cheek, ever so slowly. Dean put his finger out and caught it just above the corner of her mouth. He wiped it on his shirt and kissed the spot it had been. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Thank you," she whispered. In answer, he swept her hair out of her eyes and held it against her head, just before her ear.

"You're welcome."

With a heavy sigh, she slumped against the back of her couch. "I guess I just…wasn't expecting it," she said.

He nodded. "These things get to you. No way to change that. The best thing you can do for yourself is talk about it."

The corner of her mouth lifted momentarily, appreciating his effort. "I know," she said. "I just don't always know how."

Wasn't that true, she thought. The best thing she could have done after Victor Paul Gitano was to talk to Elliot. She should have admitted her feelings for him, told him she loved him, had been in love with him for years. At the very least, she should have told him she was transferring to Computer Crimes. It should have been a mutual agreement, much like any drastic change between a husband and wife. She should have suggested, made it clear that it was what she wanted, and he should have at least been aware, if not approving.

Before going to Oregon, she should have made them let her tell Elliot she would be leaving him again. It had been unfair to leave him in the dark like that, and she should have known better. She should have known that he would panic, worry when she did not show up for work. She had seen how he was when she left the first time. How could she have expected this time to be any different?

The best thing she could have done after Sealview was put aside her pride and dignity and told her coworkers, her friends what had happened. She should have let them know so that, when she finally snapped, she would have a support system. That was what her therapist was always emphasizing. Have a support system. Gather a group of close friends and family members whom you know and trust. You do not have to go through this alone.

Dean was silent, and Olivia was unsure of the reason. He might have been trying to come up with an appropriate response. The problem was that Olivia wasn't sure she wanted him to say anything. She had opened herself up to him, and now she wanted to keep the conversation rolling. She did not want to dwell on her own issues. That was just not the way she was wired. She was hardwired to be selfless, much like her partner was hardwired to be bullheaded sometimes. It was one of the things that made them who they were.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. "Water?"

He grinned. "Can you turn it into wine?"

Teasing flitted momentarily across her face. "I think I can manage that," she said, heading into the kitchen.

She returned a minute later, bearing two long-stemmed, wide-brimmed glasses of red wine. Dean's eyes travelled down her body again, lingering on her long legs. She handed him a glass and smirked. "Like what you see, Porter?" she inquired, balancing her wine between her middle and ring fingers.

"Would you throw me out if I said yes?"

She leaned back against the cushions, stretching her legs out in front of her as far as they could go. "Now why would I want to do that?" she said. "That's a compliment." Extending her glass, she clinked it against his. "Cheers."

Dean brought the goblet to his mouth, grinning teasingly at her. "Cheers," he said.

They sipped the crimson liquid, staring at each other. It was quite like a standoff, both parties waiting for the other to break first. For her part, Olivia was slightly distracted by a drop of wine frozen on Dean's chin, just below his lips. At last, she placed her glass on the table and stretched forward and up, transferring the wine to her own mouth and licking her lips. Brown eyes watched her, unblinking, entranced.

Without warning, he pressed his lips to hers in a crushing kiss, to which she responded immediately, securing his face to hers and deepening the kiss before either of them really knew what had happened. The suddenness and almost animalistic nature of this reaction surprised her, especially when she realized it was not only Dean who was acting that way. She was, as well. This in itself reinforced her firm belief that a relationship between him and her could work out exceptionally well. It was clear they had missed each other, quite a lot. It was clear they both felt very strongly for the other. It was clear they both wanted this.

He pushed her backwards so that she was almost flat on her back on the couch. His lips dropped lower, planting feather-light kisses down her throat. She shivered as his fingers tickled the exposed skin at her waist and, despite every instinct screaming at her to stay quiet, her mind took over. It flashed one face at her, one solitary face, and she whispered, "Dean, stop."

He heard her. He always heard her. He'd heard her the one other time this had happened, and he heard her now. Obeying her wishes, he backed off, pulling away and letting her gather herself. Just like the other time this occurred, she searched his face carefully for some sign that she was insulting him or hurting him in some other way by asking him to stop. Just like the other time, there was nothing there. No blame, no hurt, only acceptance and mild confusion. Just like the other time, she felt he deserved an explanation anyway.

"I just… Dean, it's not that I…"

He placed two fingers over her mouth, silencing her. "Shh," he said. "It's okay. Whenever you're ready. No sooner." He offered her a smile, and she responded with one of her own, grateful to him for being so understanding.

She wasn't sure why she was so unwilling. Perhaps it was the fact that he had just returned from a two year absence from her life. She did not want it to seem like nothing more than a party favor with no more meaning than a celebratory drink or a "hey there, thanks for waiting". If this relationship was heading in the direction she thought and secretly hoped it was, then she wanted their first time to be special, something meaningful, something she would treasure in her memory as something of a confirmation that they both had the same expectations for their relationship.

The reason could have been that Sealview was still a shadow on the floor, showing up at random moments when the lighting was right. Sometimes, on the infrequent occasions that she was not spending the night alone, they would only get so far before something he did or something she saw would trigger an irresistible reminder of that basement. When that happened, the evening would always end abruptly with her unsatisfied guest going back home, confused and possibly angry, and Olivia would spend the better part of her remaining off hours alternately calming and berating herself over the unfortunate occurrence.

She was pretty sure, deep in her heart, that at least some small part of it was the unshakable feeling that, if she had sex with Dean, she would somehow be cheating on Elliot. She was not entirely sure how that was possible, seeing as Elliot was both a husband to Kathy and a father to five beautiful children, but she felt it all the same. For that reason, she feared that she no longer possessed the ability to love someone else. Her love for her partner ran deep, deeper than blood, deeper than bone. In their very souls, the part of them that defined who they were, a connection existed that was intricate to the point of being hopelessly tangled. That connection had destroyed many an attempted relationship, and Olivia was very afraid that it would ruin this one, too. And she really wanted this one to continue.

"I think that's my cue to go," Dean said softly, taking his jacket from where he'd draped it over the sofa.

Olivia hung her head, unhappy that she'd made him leave.

"Hey," he said, seeing this. Suddenly, he was back on the sofa next to her. His hand was under her chin, tilting it up so she had to look into his eyes and see the honesty there. "It's okay," he whispered, and planted a kiss on her forehead. A gentle touch full of promise and affection, one that told her it did not bother him that she wanted to wait. For that, she was thankful, relieved to have found someone so understanding.

She walked him to the door and kissed him goodnight, just a chaste touch of the lips, and she watched him down the hall until he disappeared around the corner. At that point, she closed her door and leaned up against it, sighing. This evening had certainly gone well. She and Dean were back on track, and her annoyingly attractive partner hadn't messed it up. Yet. If all went well, she thought this relationship might actually be able to move toward something more permanent. They were both law enforcement, and they understood the long work hours and twisted schedules. There always seemed to be something to talk about, and, on the rare occasions that there wasn't, the silence between them was always comfortable, as though they were each happily ensconced in their own thoughts and respecting the other's privacy. Most importantly, they enjoyed each other's company. Olivia thought there was definitely potential in this situation, and she just hoped it would work out.

She had already come to terms with the fact that she could not have Elliot. In earlier years, she had been unhappy, dreaming of him, living her life in a fantasy. That wasn't to say that she didn't still do that, but the events of the past few years woke her up. Their friendship had been badly damaged, and, so far, they had not figured out a way to get it back on track. Her goal was to reform their old relationship and be satisfied with that. Because, in her opinion, even though she could not have the type of relationship with Elliot that she dreamed of, she could settle for the second best option of having their old friendship back. That would be enough for her.

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**Review = Doughnut**

**I'm hungry! 3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Who saw the new promo? OMG, I think I died! So, what do we know, now? We know that Dean and Olivia did, in fact, enter into a romantic relationship, for a short period of time at the very least. So, I was correct in that sense. Best of all, we know that dear El is…wait for it…J-E-A-L-O-U-S!!!!! Woohoo!!! As my dear Twitter friends put it, looks like Liv's finally getting some action. In my opinion, a jealous El can only take so much until he snaps. Hopefully, he snaps soon. That will be fun to watch!**

**Thanks for the reviews, you guys! I really don't have much time before this story is officially moot, so my plan is to post two chapters per day. Hopefully nobody minds...? I've also gotten a request for Dean/Olivia, and a request for tension between El and Dean. Because of time constraints, I don't have time to write a really long story, but I hope you guys will be happy with what I'm giving you. As for the Dean/Liv ship, no can do. Sorry, guys. It took some convincing to drag me kicking and screaming onto the EO ship, and I'm not leaving.**

**Disclaimer: this is called fan fiction for a reason. If you don't know that reason, Google it.**

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**SVU Squad Room – 7:34 a.m.**

For the first time in recent history, Elliot was yawning more than Olivia. The reason behind this was that, while Olivia had gone to bed at a semi-reasonable hour, peacefully ensconced in the caring atmosphere Dean had left behind him, Elliot had been up and about, caught in the middle of his most recent argument with his wife over their newest subject of disagreement. Eli. Was it fair, Kathy wanted to know, that she was the one taking care of the baby all the time? She wanted to work. She wanted to get out of the house more often and develop a circle of friends to talk to while her husband was at work. She wanted him to be home for dinner to help her feed and change Eli. She wanted Elliot to spend some bonding time with his youngest son, tucking him into bed at night, for example. Was that so much to ask for?

Elliot's response had been that, though he desperately wanted to be at home with his family, the case they were working on was huge, requiring long, intense hours on the job. He was sorry he could not be home to help his wife take care of his children, really he was, but the case required his presence to solve. There were very few things, he assured her, that he wanted more than to be playing with Eli. It was just that supporting such a large family was demanding, and he needed to make sacrifices to put food on the table. In his defense, he had been doing better. He was home for dinner, usually at the expense of his colleagues. Fin, Olivia, and Munch covered his shift willingly, as much as they could, because they knew how much he loved being with his children, and how much he wanted to be a part of their lives. He had somehow found the time to attend soccer, football, basketball, and even managed to make it to the occasional lacrosse game that Maureen had taken such a liking to.

Despite this, Kathy was not happy. She wanted a husband with normal hours. One that came home at six every evening instead of anywhere from eight to midnight, sometimes collapsing onto their bed at three in the morning, grunting an acknowledgment of her presence, and promptly falling asleep. One who kissed her tenderly on the lips, relishing in her presence and expressing his love for her through the mere union of their lips. Not one who gave her a mere peck on the cheek on the occasions when he was actually around early enough to do so. She wanted a husband who loved her and frequently reaffirmed that love, be it through sex or a kiss or a thoughtful rose on the counter in the morning.

She asked him, for the umpteenth time, to look into transferring out of SVU, into something more stable, more normal, so that he could fulfill the position of loving husband.

He refused.

And that had triggered the argument that always seemed to come up, no matter what the original squabble was about. Why would he not even consider leaving Manhattan SVU? Kathy insisted, despite Elliot's repeated denials, that he was staying for Olivia. He wanted to be with Olivia. As soon as she said that, every single time, Elliot started hollering, and things would just go downhill from there.

Last night, he had actually left, driving all the way back to Manhattan to take refuge in the crib. He had planned to wake up long before anyone showed up, and that way no one would ask. However, though he could have sworn he had set his phone alarm before going to sleep, it never went off in the morning, and he had stumbled sleepily down to the squad room at seven fifteen instead of six thirty, as he had originally planned and found Olivia already at her desk.

She glanced up at him and offered a good morning, to which he replied in kind, wondering with slight paranoia if she had turned his watch alarm off in an effort to give him more time to sleep.

No one else had shown up yet. Olivia and Elliot were the only two in the squad room, and they were both sitting in front of the whiteboard of pictures and words, trying to force their sleepy minds to make sense of it all.

"Something tells me we need more caffeine," Olivia said wryly, glancing at her empty cup of tea.

Elliot rotated the wrist holding what little remained of the coffee Olivia had bought him. "Yeah," he said, stifling another yawn.

Averting her eyes uncomfortably, she finally asked, "What happened last night?"

"Nothing."

The answer was swift and sharp, and Olivia was surprised at how much it hurt her to hear. She now had some sort of inkling as to how Elliot felt when she pushed him away like that. _What happened in the basement?_ Nothing. _What did you do to get all those bruises?_ Nothing. _Is there something you want to say to me? Because, if you do, let's hear it._ No, that was one of the times where she only wished he had said nothing. Instead, he had asked her why she had let Gitano get so close to her, and they started shouting at each other.

Years ago, she would have pressed him for information. There was a time when they would not have moved from their seats until they had sorted out whatever was bothering them. But that was then, and this was now. And now, she would not press him. Somewhere along the line, they had stopped doing that. She knew without a doubt that something was going on. Her devoted, family-man partner would not be sleeping in the crib if something was not terribly wrong. But, at some point, she had lost the right to inquire about anything related to his personal life. In retaliation, she had taken away his right to do the same for her. Maybe, she thought, it was better that way. If they knew nothing about each other, there was no logical way they could come up with drama. At least, that was the theory. So far, if anything, the drama had just gotten worse.

If she had known Elliot was in need of comfort after the Masoner case, she would have made sure he did not go to Kathy for it. If he had known she was there for him, he may have gone to her instead of his ex-wife. Had that happened, their relationship would, most likely, have taken a drastic turn for the better. Who knew? They may even have finally admitted their feelings for one another, and they would be moving towards marriage instead of destruction.

Olivia thought about that more often than she cared to admit. Marrying Elliot. It was one of her most secret fantasies, something she could spend hour upon hour imagining. She knew he had feelings for her. They were displayed in his eyes whenever he looked at her. It was just that he had made his choice, going back to Kathy, and she was convinced that he loved his wife more. In her dreams, though, Kathy was not even in the picture. Olivia had many solutions for the Kathy in her dreams. Sometimes she imagined a mutual divorce, where both acknowledged that their marriage had been over for years. Other times, when she was feeling devious, she contemplated sending her off with Eli's real Daddy, the UPS man. She always felt guilty after thinking that, realizing what it would do to Elliot, and the solution was scratched off her list.

But that was just semantics. Olivia was more interested in the actual wedding. Would it have been big? She had composed hundreds of different scenarios, set anywhere from a tiny church in the middle of nowhere to Central Park to a cruise ship way out of either of their price ranges. What would she have worn? What would her wedding dress have been like? More importantly, what would he have looked like? Tears sprung to Olivia's eyes as she sank deeper and deeper into the realm of what could have been. She hoped he didn't notice, as she no longer had any desire to continue this topic of conversation.

So, she just nodded, showing him that she was at least unconvinced, and returned their attention to the case.

"We have a picture," she said, pointing to the one in the middle of the board. "We have a profession." She indicated the pictures of Gloria Martinez's disfigured breasts and the cocaine they found in her home, thanks to her ten-year-old son. "But we still need a time and place of next delivery." Throwing her hands up in frustration, she stood fluidly, like a waterfall in reverse, and commenced pacing back and forth behind their chairs. She stopped every once in a while to glare at the board, but she never ceased muttering to herself. Elliot stayed in his seat, offering suggestions, his eyes fixed resolutely on the only picture they had of Alvarez Cabral, the Portuguese immigrant who ran the most successful cocaine smuggling business in the entire United States by enlisting beautiful women to insert the substance into their breast implants.

She groaned. "Who would even do that?"

The process, once they had discovered it, delving deeper into adjustments to the female anatomy than they'd ever wanted to go, had been straightforward enough, at first glance. There were two types of implants: saline and silicone gel. These women selected the saline method, and Alvarez Cabral's hired surgeon would insert the flexible silicone shell. Normally, this shell would be filled with saline, a salt-and-water solution. In these instances, the cocaine filled up the shell instead. The woman was stitched up, this type of implant leaving a thinner scar than the silicone gel, and voila. She was officially ready to smuggle drugs into the U.S.

"Someone who needs a large amount of money in a short amount of time," answered Dean's voice. Elliot and Olivia swiveled around as one to watch the FBI agent approach them. He smiled warmly at Olivia, who smiled in return, glancing at Elliot as she did so. With only the three of them in the squad room, the tension between the two of male gender was palpable. Olivia wondered if it was possible to suffocate from testosterone exposure. The way things were going, she was well on her way to becoming the test case.

"You know something we don't, Porter?" Elliot asked roughly, stepping forward. "Because if you do, let's hear it."

Dean eyed his opponent. "If we leave now, we can get to JFK airport by the time Cabral shows up."

Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode away. Olivia and Elliot exchanged curious glances. "Dean!" Olivia called, running to grab her coat, Elliot behind her. "We can't just go off half-cocked like this! We need a plan and people to execute it."

"If we wait," he said, "we'll miss him."

Elliot's eyes were cautious. _I don't like it, Liv,_ he eye-talked to her.

_I don't like it either, but, if we don't go, we may never get another chance._ She offered him his coat, and he nodded.

_I hope this works._

**John F. Kennedy International Airport – 9:32 a.m.**

The plan was simple. Get in, find the guy, and get out. That was what they were going to do. On the way, Dean had informed them of the plan he apparently already had and expected them to willingly accept and follow it. He would be in the parking lot near the planes, relaying instructions to them through their earpieces, because it was very likely that Cabral knew his face. If that was so, then their cover would be blown as soon as it was established, and they would never get him. Olivia and Elliot would be inside, posing as normal civilians. When they found him, they would simply arrest him. It was as simple as that.

"You ready?" Elliot asked Olivia as he brushed past her.

Seemingly engrossed in her handheld computer, she nodded, doing her best to disregard the happy tingles that brusque touch sent coursing through her body. Another person almost collided with her, and she looked up so she could wander farther away from him and hover just outside the ticket centers. She was just another woman in the airport, sending an email to her company before leaving for a business meeting. Having decided on her position, she returned her gaze to the device.

She could barely hear Dean muttering about something in the background. He wasn't talking to her at all, and she could only assume he was on the phone with his supervisor, filling him in on this very unorthodox mission he had come up with. Actually, Olivia wasn't exactly sure why she was participating in it. This man was dangerous. He was most likely armed. What they should have done was have airport security hold him until they arrived to take him back to the precinct. Not even that! As soon as Dean found out when Cabral was leaving the state, it was his duty to inform his superior officers and have them establish an operation to catch the guy. He should not be just telling them now. What was going on with him?

On her computer, she pulled up her email account and sent a message to Cragen, explaining what was going on and requesting back-up. If Dean was letting his superior know, she should as well. She was going to, anyway. Cragen needed to know. She gave him their location and status and, after debating over it briefly, warned him that she wasn't entirely sure about the clarity of Dean's thinking. Presenting him with a blow-by-blow account of what had happened and letting him draw his own conclusions.

That was what she was doing when she was interrupted by a man's voice.

"Excuse me."

Olivia looked up in reflex, to see who was talking, and found that she was staring into an unfortunately familiar face. Alvarez Cabral had nearly run into her. Nearly being the key word there. He hadn't run into her. He had come close, certainly, but he had not touched her. What was she to make of that?

She felt his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction to him, and she wondered briefly if he could possibly know who she was. No, she was just being paranoid. He had never seen her before. But there was something about the look she saw in his eyes, almost like a smirk…

And then he had passed her. Olivia turned her eyes to Elliot, who was staring fixedly at what had just transpired. She thought she could just make out fear in his eyes when she met them. Understanding passed between the pair, and Elliot stood up casually, pulling out his phone as he did so. Little blue bars, four of them, gleamed in his eyes, but he wandered over to the window as if he were trying to get a signal. His steps brought him almost directly in front of Cabral, who glanced up briefly. Raising his phone as though searching for the best signal, Elliot compared the picture on the phone with the man who was now staring at him, a mixture of caution and calculation in his eyes. It was definitely their guy.

He and Olivia locked eyes again, and he confirmed her suspicions. Yes, the man was Cabral, and, yes, they could take him down now. The only problem was that Cabral, during their silent conversation, had slipped away into the throng of people. Moving with purpose, Olivia slid her computer into her pocket and followed the dark head that was quickly disappearing through the terminal.

Feeling rather than seeing Elliot's presence behind her, Olivia shadowed Cabral through the airport. He stopped right near a door, marked in yellow, that blared, "Authorized Personnel Only." He did not move. He just stood there.

Olivia glanced back at her partner and started walking faster, towards Alvarez Cabral. "Freeze!" she shouted. Her hand went to her hip to pull her gun, just in case, and Cabral reacted.

Quick as a flash, he took three large steps forward, placing himself right in Olivia's face. His hand closed around her wrist and pulled her to him.

"Look out!" she screamed, feeling his hand at her hip.

Her gun left her holster and touched her head, and his other hand came out and wrapped around her neck, holding a small, black box. A detonator.

"Drop the gun!" Cabral bellowed, dragging Olivia backwards, the cold metal of her gun pressing against her temple. "Drop the gun, or I'll blow this whole place into bits!" Her eyes widened with Elliot's, as she felt a strange sense of déjà vu take over.

Memories flashed through her mind.

_Entering the warehouse without backup, because there was no time…splitting up in the hope of catching Gitano before he could flee…seeing Elliot, helpless at Gitano's mercy, a gun pressed to his head…_

Elliot could not act, for fear of Cabral activating the bomb. He could not cuff him. He needed to shoot him. And Olivia was in the way.

Together, realization flooded their eyes, and Olivia began to beg. _Shoot,_ she pleaded. _Shoot. Just do it!_ Cabral's elbow hooked over her shoulder and pushed her backwards into him. She took one step, and he roughly began jerking her along. He was running away as fast as he could, and she was doing her best to follow, motivated solely by the gun to her head. Cracks in the concrete collided with her heels, and she stumbled. Cabral caught her with a strong arm wrapped around her abdomen and dragged.

Just as she disappeared around the corner, she heard Elliot shout, "Olivia!"

As soon as they were out of range of her partner's gun, she felt the gun move in his hand to a less uncomfortable position, where it would still send a bullet straight into her brain if she did not cooperate. "Move," Cabral ordered, and she did. He was striding, walking swiftly and with purpose, so she was, too. Except, his purpose was to get away from Elliot, and her purpose was to stay alive. "Faster!" She obeyed. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage, sending bolts of blood-laced adrenaline through her body, but she kept going.

Quicker than she would have liked, the runways came into view, and Cabral was talking while he moved. "You see that plane, there?" he asked.

Even with his hand a cuff of iron around her wrist and a gun directed at her head, she couldn't help quipping, "Which one? There are quite a few."

"That one," he said, pointing to a smaller one, slightly separate from the others. In retaliation for her words, he swung an arm into her midsection.

Coughing, she walked faster. There was no sarcastic comment this time. She would stay quiet and docile until she could get out of this. She just hoped it wouldn't take too long.

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**Review = Doughnut**

**I'm hungry! 3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, everybody! I think this a pivotal moment in history! It is the first story (Every Second Counts is questionable) that I have actually had a scheduled updating period for. Maybe that's because, this time, I have an unmoving deadline (i.e. Wednesday). Well, either way, be proud of me! I think I'm doing pretty well! Now, if only I could apply this awesomeness to my other stories. Sigh. I would try, and I have been, it's just that, every time I try to write chapters in advance, I think I've gotten far enough, post the first chapter, and then don't write for ages. That's what happened with Supremacy, and now I don't know when it's going to be done. Well, that's all in the wind now. I'm here, and I'm writing.**

**I'm doing my best to seem upbeat here. I mean, I'm really not feeling like sunshine and butterflies at the moment. These past few months…since around the end of August, actually, have just been tough. I don't know who knew this already, but my living room caught fire at the end of February, and I was displaced for maybe three and a half months while they rebuilt and redid the better part of my house. Just recently, around the end of August so six months afterwards, it's finally hitting me. That, on top of a whole lot of other stuff I won't bore you with, is making my life generally miserable. But, I digress…**

**Another chapter in the life of Elliot and Olivia, huh? Who's excited? El was yelling at me for hours over this while I cowered under my covers. He doesn't like Liv having a gun to her head. Can't say I blame him, though. Something tells me I'm going to cry over this episode. Did you see her face? Heartbreaker! And El was… Oh, wow. Can't wait.**

**Disclaimer: fan fiction = fiction by a fan. Fan = doesn't have rights, no matter how much she wishes otherwise.**

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**John F. Kennedy International Airport – 10:15 a.m.**

"Freeze!" Elliot's voice cut through the cocktail of adrenaline and panic that was coursing through Olivia's veins.

Immediately, Cabral skidded to a halt and pulled Olivia against him with an iron fist. Senses on hyperalert, she heard the click as he pointed her own gun at her head. "Don't shoot!" he ordered, waving his detonator. Not in a wild, uncontrollable way, but in a performance to remind all present what was at stake. "Don't move, or she dies."

Everything went still. Olivia's wide eyes took in the scene before her. Apparently, her email to Cragen had been received, for she saw bulletproof vests and guns everywhere, all of them pointing directly at her. She saw her captain, and Fin, and Munch, all standing with their weapons raised, and she thought they looked very cold. They scared her. For the first time, she was afraid of the men on her team. She did not want to be, but she was. Instinct told her to be afraid of guns pointing at her, and to be afraid of the people holding them.

Her eyes moved to Elliot. His entire body radiated pure and undiluted horror. Reason understood the look in his eyes for what it was; fear for her and frustration at what he was being asked to do, what he simply could not seem to do. But the potent drugs of fear and adrenaline stamped down the reason, replacing it with instinct. Survival instincts told her to fear the weapons pointing at her, even the ones held by her team. Even the one held in Elliot's shaking hands.

She was afraid of Elliot. Instinct told her to be afraid of Elliot. She wondered if that was what he had felt when their positions were reversed. Had he been just as afraid of her as he had been of the gun to the back of his head? Had he stared down the barrel of her gun and wondered if she would actually shoot? Had he thought he was going to die? Had he fought that fear, just as she was doing now, to talk to her like he had?

After three years of ignorance, she finally understood how Elliot had felt. As she watched him, completely at Gitano's mercy, begging her to kill him, she had not understood why he kept telling her to shoot. Did he not realize that she couldn't? Did he not realize that she was not physically, mentally, emotionally capable of shooting her partner, for the same reason he had run to her instead of saving Ryan? He ordered her to shoot him, and she wondered how he could expect her to cause his death.

Now, she understood. As she felt Cabral's hands, possessive around her, clinging to her like a shield before a fearful warrior, she understood. There were no words to describe how she was feeling, but she knew without a doubt that it was the same way her partner had felt in the same situation. All her emotions came bubbling up to the peak of the volcano, jostling for position, waiting to be released. That was how it felt to be on the verge of death and know it. A strange sense of clarity took over. She felt all her hidden, buried, long forgotten thoughts and feelings spring to the starting gate, ready to be acknowledged at last. There was a surprisingly long list of things she still had to do, and, first on the list, she had to tell Elliot something. The problem with that was that her body was still in control of her mind, and her body was channeling fear into every muscle, every bone, every fiber of her body.

Reason battled with instinct as she fought the urge to be scared of her partner. As they demolished each other, leaving her trembling, helpless in confusion and panic, she met his eyes. They were the only thing that mattered. She did not care that there were countless other cops surrounding them with guns pointed at her. She did not care that her captain was in the vicinity, privy to every word that was spoken. She did not care that Dean's car had pulled up, and he was there as well, joining the fracas. All she cared about at that moment was that she spoke to her partner. But just as she was about to do so, the man behind her began to shout again.

"Agent Porter," he said. Olivia could hear quelled excitement in his voice. "Come and join the party."

"Let her go, Cabral," Dean ordered.

He smiled. "But why would I want to do that?" The muzzle of her gun caressed the side of her face, pushing her brown hair behind her ear, where it was caught by the wind and blew in her eyes again. "Especially when you're to blame for her situation."

Olivia's eyes became, if possible, even wider. "Dean?" she queried, shock and betrayal skittering across her pretty features.

Dean shook his head. "Olivia, it's not what you think. I swear."

"No, it's really not," Cabral chipped in. There was an odd, almost manic undercurrent to his voice. "You see, Detective Benson, Agent Porter and I agreed to my safe passage out of the country with you as a trophy for my efforts. However, I may have to rescind my offer of reward. He said absolutely nothing about an army showing up to stop me."

Her heart was in so much pain, she thought it was going to explode. A trophy? Dean had set her up to be abducted by this man? For what reward? Why her? Her mind reeled with questions that went unanswered as her bewildered, stunned brain tried to comprehend what was being said. Fury punctured the fright in her eyes. She so desperately wanted to go over there and hurt him. She wanted to physically, violently injure Dean Porter, preferably beyond repair. Because, not only was he the reason for the anguish in her heart, but he had turned her into nothing more than a piece of property that could be bought and sold for a certain price. And she had been kissing him in her apartment last night.

She had really thought things might work out with Dean. She had sincerely hoped that this relationship would be her last one, the one that would take her into marriage and children and family and peace. Instead, she decided to set her sights on a man who would give her up for a few green pieces of paper. How terrible was that?

Rage burned in Elliot's eyes, and Olivia saw it as soon as logic left them. Her partner was running purely on instinct now, and instinct was telling him to beat the traitorous FBI agent into the ground. He lowered his gun to do just that, but Cabral stopped him.

"No, no!" he hollered. "Nobody moves!" One arm tightened around Olivia, pulling her against him, the other kept a firm grip on the gun pointing at her head. Her eyes flickered quickly, unconsciously, to his thumb on the detonator.

Elliot couldn't hear through the fury turning his vision red and his ears deaf, and Cabral screamed louder. "Nobody moves! Or this airport looks like your precious Twin Towers. And you'll be scraping her brains off the ground!" The gun pressed harder against her temple, and Olivia heard a soft whimper. Seconds later, she realized it had come from her.

That brought Elliot to his senses. He froze, and his blue eyes met Olivia's brown ones. From the desperation palpable in her gaze, it was clear that she frantically wanted to say something. Taking a deep breath, he did one of the hardest things he thought he had ever done. He turned back to the Portuguese man and pointed his gun straight at his partner of over ten years.

"Porter!" he yelled, never taking his eyes off Olivia. "What did you do!?"

Dean appeared suitably anxious, his gun trained on the woman he had kissed just last night. "I'm sorry!"

"Then you wouldn't have done it!"

"I didn't mean for it to end this way."

"You planned the whole thing out!"

"HE TOOK MY SISTER!!!" Dean was panting. His nerves were frayed, his patience gone, and suddenly the fearless FBI agent was gone. In his place, there was a scared, helpless little boy, backed into a corner, doing anything he could to fight his way out. His little sister, his baby sister, the adopted daughter of his parents after they could no longer have children, was a mere seventeen years old. She lived down south, in the Florida area, and he had run into her just before his undercover stint. That was how Cabral had found them. He abducted Dean's sister and threatened to kill her if he told anyone. "He took my baby sister, and he'll only give her back if…if…"

"If you give him someone to replace her." Olivia stiffened, the force of his betrayal a crippling blow that threatened to bring her to her knees. That's what this was. That's what this had been the whole time. It was a delivery. A ransom drop. Her for his sister. All along, that was what he had been planning. He had brought them to the airport with the intention of giving Olivia to Cabral in exchange for his sister's return. Olivia would go with Cabral wherever he wanted, and his little sister would safely go home with him. That was his plan, possibly before he even showed up in their squad room. Possibly before last night. And they had fallen for it.

"Why didn't you tell the police? We would have helped you get her back."

"If I told anyone, he would kill her."

"We would have found her before that."

"Liv," he said, but she interrupted.

"Don't you dare call me Liv!"

"Olivia, then. I've heard that argument so many times before. Sometimes, things don't work out that way. I wasn't about to take that chance with Sofia."

Cabral yawned, feigning boredom. "Captain Cragen!" The captain narrowed his eyes. "Two of your officers may take Agent Porter into custody, if you would like." Munch and Fin began to move, matching death glares on their faces, but Cabral stopped them. "You and your detectives stay here," he ordered.

Nobody wanted to acknowledge just how under the Portuguese man's control they seemed to be while he had their detective's life in his hands. Turning his head just slightly towards his people, Cragen nodded. "Davidson! O'Neal!" Two men reacted, lowering their guns and turning to the Fed in their midst. "Dean Porter, you are under arrest for..."

"Endangering the welfare of a child," Cragen supplied.

"For what!?" Dean yelled angrily, his gaze never leaving Cabral, who was safely hidden behind Olivia. "Where's my sister? Give me back my sister!"

"By entering into a ransom drop without securing the scene with officers who could protect your sister if something went wrong, you risked her injury or death," explained the captain.

Dean followed the officers, hollering one desperate cry of, "Sofia!"

In spite of everything he had put her through, was putting her through, Olivia felt pity well up in her heart for Dean Porter. She wished she could find Sofia. She wished she could do something to help the poor girl. And then, she realized she could. There was something she could do.

"Elliot," she said. It was windy, and the sounds of airplanes taking off buzzed in the background as a disturbance. Despite this, her voice, shaky but strong, carried to the ears of all involved. Even though she was only speaking to one of them.

"El, listen. There's no reason to keep this piece of crap alive," she told him, noticing the exact moment when he realized she was using his words. _Olivia, there's no reason to keep this piece of crap alive._

_Pull the trigger right now._ "Pull the trigger." Angry tears fell from her eyes, and she blinked them away. "Elliot, pull it!" _Olivia, pull it!_

He was fighting tears of his own, now, slowly walking closer to her. She watched, heart aching, as he pushed them back. _Shoot him!_ "Just shoot!"

"Shut up!" Cabral ordered, moving his arm from his captive's stomach to her neck and taking a step backward. "Shut up and stay put!"

Elliot stopped. "Liv…" he could not think of any words to say. So he resorted, as they tended to do, to their silent conversations.

_I can't lose you, Liv. I can't._

_El, I chose you over killing Gitano, and you chose me over Ryan. Don't do that again._

_I'm not going to be responsible for your death!_

Cragen, Munch, Fin, and all the other men were observers in this noiseless argument. They watched the expressions on Olivia's face shift and change, and they watched as tears finally broke free from the dam she hid them behind. They flowed freely down her cheeks in glistening rivulets, and Elliot was in a similar condition. Cragen felt his own eyes burn, and he fought the urge to cry. He would not cry in front of his subordinates.

_Take this guy out. Don't worry about me. If you worry about me, someone else won't._

_Liv…_

_Someone else will do it, whether you can or not._

_No!_ He could not look away from her, but she saw his muscles tense defensively. _I won't let them hurt you._

She shook her head, ever so slightly, wary of the gun at her temple. _Someone has to shoot him,_ she said, _and I'd rather it was you._

"What?" he cried, readjusting his sweaty hands on his weapon. His finger trembled on the trigger. "Liv, I…"

"El, please!" she responded, ignoring Cabral, who twisted her arm behind her back, making her cry out in surprise. The guy just couldn't seem to figure out where he wanted to put his hands.

"Shut up!" he shouted.

Olivia ignored that. "Shoot him!"

Cabral twisted harder, and she felt her stupid shoulder pop out of place. Biting her lip to keep from shouting, she felt new tears join the ones already falling.

Very slowly, Elliot shook his head. "I can't," he told her, almost too softly to hear. "I can't."

Olivia's eyes softened. She noticed, somehow, that her shoulder didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. Maybe imminent death did that to a person. Things took priority. A small smile graced her lips, full of understanding and compassion and, most of all, her forgiveness. "It's okay," she said. _I'm sorry I hurt you. I just…didn't know._ "You can let go, now."

"No." _You didn't do anything wrong, Liv,_ he said. _I would have done the same thing._

_You did do the same thing,_ she said with a slight chuckle, the most out-of-place sound ever in existence.

He nodded. _I know. I…_

"I forgive you," she whispered.

Subconsciously, he knew she was referring to the most important thing in their relationship. She was forgiving him for everything. She was forgiving him for Richard White, for Eric Plummer, for blaming Ryan's death on her, for calling her incompetent. She was forgiving him for looking over her and around her and through her for the better part of two years, for not being there for her after Sealview, after Lauren Cooper's suicide. She was forgiving him for not talking to her, for going back to Kathy, for pushing her away when all she was trying to do was help. All his transgressions over a ten-year period had been wiped off the slate with those three simple words.

He saw in her eyes that she was taking the blame from his shoulders. But blame, like matter, could not be created or destroyed, though it could exist in another form. She was placing that blame on her own conscience, taking it all on herself, turning it into something that would die with her, and he did not like that. He wanted to tell her that he forgave her as well, for not talking to him, for leaving unexpectedly, first to computer crimes, then to Oregon, but he knew it would not work. Besides, she already knew. She was Olivia. Of course she knew.

She squared her shoulders as best she could and stared deeper into his eyes. _One shot._ "Do it." _Quick and clean._ "Shoot him." _Please._ "It's okay." She felt the blue oceans swirl around her, pulling her farther and farther down into their depths, and with them came peace. In flawless synchronization, they took one breath, one long, deep breath.

"I love you."

There was a shot.

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**O.**

**M.**

**G.**

***hides behind Elliot***


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, sweet final chapter!**

**I hope that last chapter, especially the part with Dean, wasn't too overdramatized. Someone said it was… It sounded fine when I wrote it! Either way, thank you all SOOO much for your reviews, and special thanks to Wentzie72. I'm so honored that you reviewed me, especially when you don't normally! *blushes* And to all you who are hiding out in the background - I know you're out there! - thanks for sticking with the story! I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: Executive Producer Dick Wolf. Nuff said.**

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_She squared her shoulders and stared deeper into his eyes. _One shot_. "Do it." _Quick and clean._ "Shoot him." _Please._ "It's okay." She felt the blue oceans swirl around her, pulling her farther and farther down into their depths, and with them came peace. In flawless synchronization, they took one breath, one long, deep breath._

"_I love you."_

_There was a shot._

_* * *_

**Cragen Residence – 5:55 p.m.**

He had sent his team home early. As soon as the threat had been eliminated, he had sent his trembling, shaken detectives home. Hopefully that was where they remained, for he did not want them to be doing anything tonight besides getting some much-needed sleep. They had worked extremely hard on this case, and they deserved every bit of shut-eye they could get.

It was too bad that Don could not sleep.

Not that he had not tried. When he carefully shut and locked the door to his house and collapsed, drained, against it, his first order of business after regaining control of his legs was to change out of his bloody work clothes and into something worth sleeping in. However, as soon as his head hit the pillow and his old, aching muscles relaxed against the mattress, as soon as his eyes closed, the images came. The images came and set his nerves and brain cells ablaze.

Even after going over it time and time again in his mind, he was still not sure how it had happened. One minute, Elliot and Olivia were talking, and he was trying to block out their words because, from nothing but the looks in their eyes, he knew it was their private moment. The next minute, his captain senses went on hyper drive when he heard one of them say the words _"I love you."_ And that was where he lost them. All he heard was that one, clear gunshot that still echoed in his brain. He wondered if it would ever go away.

This was Gitano all over again, he knew. This case was their worst nightmare come back to haunt them. Maybe it had never gone away. Maybe it had just been buried, hidden for a while as new horrors arrived to take its place. Maybe it had been skulking out of sight, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

Well, it had struck. It had struck hard. It was too much the same, too similar for comfort, but he shuddered as his mind pulled to its forefront the one painful difference. In this case, the detective holding the gun had taken the shot.

**Munch Residence – 6:02 p.m.**

John's ears were still ringing, and he did not think they were ever going to stop. Cragen had sent them all home to get some sleep, but John was so far having no luck. And, this time, it was not a nagging desire to sweep the house for hidden cameras that was keeping him awake. It was the ringing sound of that gunshot in his ears.

He laughed wryly. A gunshot was not a ringing sound. It made no sense for the shot to be ringing in his ears if gunshots did not ring. Still, logical or not, that was what it was doing. It was ringing. And sleep was impossible if there was a gunshot ringing in his ears.

In all honesty, he was not sure it would ever go away. No matter what he did, he kept hearing that lone, solitary bang. There had been just one. One was all it had taken. But of course, that was reasonable. Whatever his other faults may be, Elliot was an excellent marksman. Blearily worried, John wondered what Elliot would be doing tonight. Not sleeping, that was for sure. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had done.

Personally, John was not sure what to think of what Elliot had done. Certainly it had been necessary, but that did not mean it would be easy for John to come to terms with it. That did not mean it would be easy to ever forgive him for it. Slowly, he shook his head, remembering the only words he had clearly heard throughout Olivia and Elliot's argument. _"I love you."_ He did not know who had said it. It could have been Olivia, it could have been Elliot, and it could have been both of them. He had not registered the person's voice, just the words he or she was saying. Not that those words were anything new.

Since the beginning of their partnership, John had been able to sense a connection between the two detectives. It was especially palpable when he walked right through the middle of it during one of their staring conversations. He would unwittingly stumble into what felt like a violently charged electric field. The bond between them was alive, sending energy back and forth between them like a ping pong tournament. Though he could not pinpoint the exact date, John knew their partnership and friendship had morphed into love extremely quickly, when the physical attraction gave way to the mental attraction as they became acquainted with each other.

The physical attraction was something John had expected to see between Elliot and Olivia. While he wasn't in a position to judge, he would assume Elliot was a good-looking specimen. Nothing compared himself of course, but reasonably handsome. Females would naturally look at him and acknowledge his good looks, even if he may not have been their type, and John was not surprised when he noticed Olivia reacting similarly.

Olivia…well, John could evaluate that one quite accurately. Olivia, while not on his dance card, was quite obviously gorgeous. That much would have been clear, even without the shallow-minded males staring at her with their jaws down to their knees, almost even with the hems of their pants. So, again unsurprisingly, Elliot had recognized Olivia as a beautiful woman.

The mental attraction, however, had taken a little longer. Before any sort of lasting friendship could have formed, the pair had to get to know each other. Granted, that had happened much faster than John would have expected, but it had not been instantaneous. He had watched them interacting. They chatted, argued, yelled, mumbled under their breaths, laughed, shared secrets like they were back in high school, and that was when he realized that they loved each other. Were in love with each other.

For those reasons among many others, it was not astonishing to John that either one or the other had stated it. What had shocked him to the very core was that, immediately after the admission, Elliot had taken the shot.

Right back at square one, John put his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to muffle the ringing gunshot and wondered, once again, if he could ever truly forgive the man.

**Tutuola Residence – 6:20 p.m.**

Fin was not a man of many words. He knew that about himself, and he liked it that way. Words got in the way. They got mixed up and misunderstood and sent civil conversations into complete chaos. In his opinion, the best way to find out what someone wanted to say was to read their expression. Because of this, Fin had gotten very good at seeing and deciphering the looks on people's faces. And that was why, however hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew he was never, ever, ever going to get Olivia's face out of his mind.

It shook him, sending shoots of pain through his heart. His memory traitorously resurrected that image and looked it over slowly, examining and analyzing it without Fin's consent.

Her lips were slightly parted, her mouth open just enough for him to see the tips of her teeth. It was not open in a surprised or terrified way, more it was an anguished position, as though she were moaning her plea, her sorrow…her apology. He did not like that, the fact that she felt the need to apologize for being stuck in such a predicament. It was not her fault Cabral decided she would be more effective protection than a thick metal shield. She could not have known what he was planning, and therefore she could not have done anything to stop it. And yet, somehow, she always managed to place blame on herself. That was just the way Olivia was, and, though he may dislike some of her habits, he wouldn't have her any other way.

Her eyes, wide, brown eyes, reflected fear, sadness, and love. She had wanted Elliot to take the shot. She had wanted him to take the shot before Cabral did because, at least then, her death would be on her own terms. At least then, she would know that the action had been out of love rather than hate. For she and Stabler loved each other. It had been obvious when he had first shown up at the precinct, fresh from his days in narcotics. They had never acted on it, he knew, but that did not mean it was not there.

From the few things he still managed to gather from his low rank in the rumor mill, he guessed that Stabler's marriage was not going well. The most recent thing he'd heard, just before Cragen had come barreling out of his office to tell them to get their butts down to JFK airport, was from the night guard. Apparently, Stabler had shown up around midnight and spent the rest of the evening in the crib. Fin did not want to take sides in a spousal dispute, but he hoped this would result in a divorce. He assumed Kathy was miserable, it was obvious Stabler was miserable, and a miserable Stabler meant a miserable Olivia. Fin did not much care for Elliot, but he loved Olivia like his little sister, and he wanted desperately to see her happy.

That was one of the reasons he was glad Stabler's bullet didn't hit her. After what had been said, maybe they would finally act on that love.

**Benson Residence – 6:23 p.m.**

Olivia had arrived in the ER, leaning against her…Elliot in a fair amount of pain, and yet there was a hemophiliac two-year-old who was bleeding from a skinned knee and a persistent old lady who did not seem to have anything wrong with her whatsoever who were also waiting. They took priority.

When she finally made it to an actual doctor, she had blatantly refused any medication. They had countered her refusal, and she was doped up on pain meds through the entire process of an examination by the doctor and x-rays to make sure that, when Elliot had kindly popped her shoulder back into place at the airport, there had been no broken bones or any other sorts of complications. Then, to her eternal shame, she had been given the choice between a sling and a shoulder immobilizer to wear for three weeks. For Olivia, three weeks meant five to seven days, and that would have been the time span she wore the stupid thing for, except for Elliot's presence at her side. He promised the doctor that his uncooperative patient would be wearing her sling for as long as was required.

Doc finally declared her fit to leave, much later than she would have liked, and she and Elliot drove back to the precinct. She had been so ready to get to the precinct and figure out where Sofia Porter was, but then Cragen had sent them home. While Elliot drove her to the hospital, they had conducted a search of the airplane Cabral was going to leave in. True to his word, Sofia was in the cockpit. In their captain's opinion, they all needed some sleep. Defeated, unhappy, and still riding out some shock waves, Olivia had allowed her…Elliot to drive her home. She had even invited him up, acutely aware that Dean had climbed the exact same steps only last night. Had it only been last night?

She had gotten him a glass of water, pointedly ignoring the half-finished bottle of wine of the coffee table. Elliot had stared at it for a few seconds without comment and then wordlessly put it away in her wine cabinet.

At the moment, they were seated on the couch, each probing the silence between them, wanting to break it but not exactly knowing how. Memories were enfolding themselves around Olivia's mind, taking her back to the occurrence.

The occurrence. That seemed like a nice way to refer to it. It sounded detached…uncaring… Olivia's eyes fluttered shut as memories began to take over.

* * *

_**John F. Kennedy International Airport – 10:47 a.m.**_

"_I love you."_

_Just before Elliot pulled the trigger, they had one more conversation, unbeknownst to the observers._

I won't, Liv,_ Elliot said stoically. _You know I won't.

I know,_ she replied. _But you won't be shooting me.

_Understanding was a lightning bolt in his eyes. _One… Two…

Three.

_Olivia did not bother with grace. She had a split second or less before Elliot's finger closed on the trigger. This, she knew, was the ultimate show of faith for both of them, and she was not about to let him down. She let her knees buckle, feeling gravity take over, pulling her to the hard ground. On the way down, she heard the gunshot echo in her eardrums. Before she could even consider what was about to splatter onto her, she grabbed for where she knew Cabral's hand would be. Her fingers closed around the detonator and slid it out of his grasp, clutching it to her chest, rolling away from the dead man, out of the line of fire in case someone decided to make sure Cabral was dead._

_It was agony on her shoulder and certain destruction for her coat, and she swore to herself that, at the very least, Elliot was paying for a new one._

_And then he was there, his hands skimming over her, checking for injuries. Even such a slight touch set her blood to liquid fire, and she trembled. "Ready, Liv?" he asked, situating his hands around the vicinity of her dislocation. While she was still wondering what he was talking about, he jerked her shoulder back into place. She yelped in pain, and he whispered a sweet apology. Satisfied that her only issue was her shoulder, he dropped his hands._

_Olivia was torn between dismay and relief. She enjoyed the feel of his hands, so rough yet so gentle, feeling for wounds like he cared deeply about her. Never did she want that to stop, but she was frightened of what she would do if he continued to touch her. He was leaving burning trails where his fingers made contact, and she was terribly worried that she would fall victim to an even more noticeable reaction if he persisted. She had already admitted she loved him in front of the entire squad, not to mention her captain. Matters could only get worse._

_She really did not know why she'd said it. Well, she did, but it made no sense now. She'd survived, so there was no real point in him knowing. If he had heard her to begin with. It was just that she had wanted him to know. If she wasn't going to make it, she wanted him to know before she died. Even if he did not return the feelings…_

_But she had seen his lips move. As she said it, she could have sworn he said it, too. No, she must have imagined it. She knew, of course, that Elliot loved her. After all, you could not work with someone for ten years and not love them. But he had chosen to go back to Kathy, and that had negated anything he may have felt for her._

_Slowly, she uncurled her body from around the detonator. She had not accidentally crushed the button in her frenzied attempt to keep it from hitting the ground, which was good. She wasn't sure her career would survive an exploding airport. She was not sure her freedom would survive such an event either, but that was beside the point._

"_Olivia."_

_She became aware of people around her. There was Cragen, taking the detonator gingerly from her hands. Fin crouched beside her, pulling her into a sitting position, asking if she was alright. Munch was over by the body, performing the necessary checks before calling out that he was dead. But the one person Olivia wanted the most, the person she desperately wanted to see, was not there._

"_Where's Elliot?" she asked Fin._

_He nodded his head towards the fence behind her, and Olivia followed his eyes to where her partner stood, unmoving, watching the planes take off._

_She stood._

"_Liv?" Fin tried to pull her back, but she jerked her arm out of his reach, hissing when her recently-set shoulder protested._

"_baby girl, we gotta get you to the hospital," said Fin, but he seemed to realize that this was something she needed to do._

_Cautious of her unpleasantly painful arm, she made her way over to the fence where Elliot was standing._

"_Hey," she whispered. Not the best opening line, but she really did not have anything better._

_Elliot nodded slightly, acknowledging her presence without having to say a word._

_Not encouraged by still determined, Olivia rested her forehead against the chain links. "What are you thinking?"_

_He laughed, but there was a bitter edge, like a lemon drop. "You always know what I'm thinking," he said._

"_Not this time." She did not look at him. She was afraid of what she would see._

_A sigh escaped him. "What do you want me to say, Liv? I'm happy I told you I love you? That I…you…we…" While he struggled for words, Olivia was struggling for breath._

_He regretted loving her? He had actually told her he loved her, she wasn't just imagining it, and now he did not want to be in love with her? She felt her heart begin to crack, and she knew in that moment that, if he did not forcibly restrain her, she was going to bolt. She was going to resort to her age-old method of running. And this time, she did not think she would come back._

_Suddenly, as if reading her mind, Elliot threw out an arm and grabbed her uninjured one. Pulling her into his chest, he held her as close as he could. She froze momentarily, but her response to him, after ten years, was stronger than she cared to admit. Of their own accord, her arms came up behind his, and she pressed herself even closer. They held each other tightly, Elliot with an almost desperate urge, as though, if he let go, she would vanish into a puff of smoke like a magical creature._

_For her part, Olivia did not know what to think. He had just implied, quite rudely in fact, that he did not love her and regretted ever telling her he did. And yet, this hug was so obviously to the contrary. Olivia wondered what he was trying to do, and she hoped he realized that his mixed signals were not earning him any brownie points with her._

_Finally, Elliot whispered in her ear not the words she was expecting, and not the words she wanted to hear. "We should get you to the hospital."_

_She groaned softly. "Why?" Perhaps he had enrolled in a class in college that taught the best way to ruin the perfect moment. That would explain so much._

"_Because," he said, pulling away. She did not want to let him go. "You have a dislocated shoulder that I crudely popped back into place, and we need to make sure it is not broken."_

_Brown eyes glared at him, and he took this as a sign of acquiescence. Quickly, he put in the request to their captain, who immediately agreed. Elliot, in unnecessary but welcome display of affection, guided Olivia into a gentle sideways hug, and they walked together to the car._

* * *

**Benson Residence – 6:26 p.m.**

"El?" Olivia asked cautiously, at the same time Elliot said, "Liv."

They stared at each other for a second, and Olivia finally said, "You first." She did not particularly want to voice her question.

A second longer he hesitated before saying, "Are you…Liv…please don't leave again."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Why would I leave?" She did not tell him she was planning on bolting the second he left.

He placed a hand under her chin and turned her face to look at him. She kept her eyes lowered; if he saw them, he would be able to read them. "It just seems like…whenever we…Liv, I don't want you to leave again."

Had she heard him right? "What?"

"It just seems like…" he searched for words. "Every time we…do something like that…" he was referring to their confessions at the airport, and they both knew it, so he didn't have to explain, "you run."

She froze. He knew. Come to think of it, he had probably known since the event in question and had just been biding his time to confront her about it. It was true, though. When things got tough, when life became too drama-filled, she ran. She had run to the safety of computer crimes, and then to Oregon, though admittedly that was not her fault. She was not sure where she was going to run now, but she would run. As sure as Munch would spout a new conspiracy theory tomorrow, she would run. But his request gave her pause. If he already knew what she was going to do, then she needed to get him out. Having him know was awful enough without trying to struggle out of his restraining grasp as well.

"El, I think you should go."

"No!" Elliot stood, feeling his temper rise. He was angry. Olivia was going to leave again, despite what he had said. That could not happen. He knew without a doubt that he would not survive her departure again. She could not leave. "Liv, please. Please don't go. Don't leave me."

She was fighting tears now. Why did he have to make this so hard? It was quite simple, in concept, but he was making it so difficult. "Elliot…El, just go. Please, just go."

"I'm not leaving."

"Elliot, get out."

"No!"

He stepped toward her, trying to intimidate her into submission with his superior height and threatening presence. She knew he would not hurt her, but she backed away anyway, until her back was against the wall and she could not go any further. She could feel the anger and fear radiating off him in waves, but she was not scared. She was angry herself. Why was he making this so dang difficult? Her hands came up to push him away, but he did not budge.

Instead, he grabbed her wrists as they came in contact with his shoulders and pinned them to her sides. He pushed forward even closer so that he was pressed up against her, rendering her immobile. The force of him was intoxicating. Olivia tried not to inhale to wonderful scent of him, did her best not to react when her body recognized just how close he really was, but it did not work very well. Her eyes fluttered almost closed. Aware of his power over her and trying just as futilely to ignore hers over him, he knew he had to do something. He could not just stand there. His eyes met hers, and he saw in them what he could positively say was love. They lowered to her lips.

The indecision in his eyes suddenly vanished, and Olivia saw his eyes drop to her lips. He was going to kiss her. She desperately wanted him to kiss her. And she also knew that, if he kissed her, she could not run. She began to struggle against him, but it was useless. He was too strong. His lips connected with hers in a crushing kiss and all resistance ceased.

For a moment, she was still, shocked and reeling, letting his mouth move against hers, trying to force a reaction, to show her what he could not seem to say. And then something inside her snapped, and she was kissing him back. Her arms wrapped around him, and she allowed him to press her even harder against the wall. When he realized that she was not fighting anymore, his hands left her wrists, sliding up her arms to her shoulders, carefully down her sides, steering as clear as possible of territory that was not yet his to explore, and coming to rest on her waist.

He pulled back and stared at her, his blue eyes sucked into her brown ones, drowning in the love he saw there. She did love him. She loved him terribly. Why was she leaving?

Olivia felt a little dizzy. His blue eyes pulled her in, lifting her into the sky with the love in them, and she felt a small smile dare to grace her lips.

"I love you, Liv," Elliot whispered, voicing only what they already knew.

And she knew in her heart it was true. He did love her. And that explained everything. That explained why he did not want her to leave. He loved her. "I love you, too, El," she said, pulling his face down for a soft kiss. "And I'm not leaving now. I can't."

"Why not?" he asked against her mouth, forehead against hers.

She pulled back just slightly and grinned at him. "You kissed me!"

With a laugh, he tugged her away from the wall and wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest, and she sighed. She knew there would be an uncertain future, what with his marriage still present, if not working out very well, but she did not much care about that at the moment. It was enough to know, and it was enough to be in his arms. She loved him, he loved her, and that was enough for a very, very, very long time.

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**Did everyone like it? I hope so, what with all the stress I went through to type this up a half-hour before the most glorious moment of my life! SVU in thirty minutes!!!**

**Review = doughnut**

**I'm hungry! Feed me one last time! 3**

**Love, **


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